


Observations of Homo floccosus domesticus

by Suitov



Series: Izuru Kamukura's Cuddly Toy [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alexithymia, Autistic Character, Bugs & Insects, Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, Comedy, Cuddles, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Haiku, Love, M/M, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Silly Boys, Sonnet, Understanding, Villanelle, alas no Gonta in this one, briefly mentioned, low key but you can see it in some of Nagito's thought processes, silky x fluffy is good pairing, some poetry but mostly prose, textures are important, ultimate therapist boyfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suitov/pseuds/Suitov
Summary: ...also known as the domestic fluffy.  This is where I put Kamukoma snippets that aren't necessarily polished, but are (mostly) canon-compliant within the Cuddly Toy universe.  Many of them were written in response to nice comments.  There's no update schedule here because it's just odds and ends.Spoilers ahead forthe first story.  It's best to read the series in order, I think.





	1. On Seeking Attention

Nagito really liked being around his boyfriend. Like, really really liked it. Oh jeez he was gay. So, so gay.

This meant that, on those occasions when Izuru was meanly working on an invention instead of paying attention to and pampering Nagito, sometimes it became necessary to flop down on the floor and be the biggest obstruction possible.

Izuru, who was so mean that he didn’t even act inconvenienced, stepped around and over him with the lightness and poise of a hundred dancers. Some large number anyway. If Nagito asked him, he’d tell him the exact running total.

Nagito was far more interested in swishing hair and sexy calves, and the prospect, however vanishingly small, of being trodden on.

He had accumulated a small collection of stolen tools and offcuts whenever Izuru turned his back for long enough. The tools were being held to ransom. It would cost a kiss to get them back.

He was still bored. Nagito started playing with one of the metal offcuts. One surface was polished, reflective. Nagito saw his own face in it, scowled and stuck out his tongue, and whispered “I’m ugly.”

Immediately, there was a scolding “Ah—” from Izuru.

“You weren’t supposed to hear,” Nagito said with a pout.

“ _Dandelion,_ ” said his love sternly.

Nagito knew perfectly well what he had to do; he just hated it. “But Izuruuuuuu.”

Izuru, who was the worst meanie in the world, did the eyebrow thing.

“Fiiiine,” huffed Nagito, and flopped his head back onto the carpet. “I FEEL like I’m ugly, but Mahiru likes taking my picture, and art galleries are exhibiting paintings of me, and Izuru thinks I’m beautiful,” he recited.

“Good. That is better.” Izuru flashed him his rare disaster of a smile, the only smile Izuru could produce, the one that was basically cosmic-horror-grade existential dread in human form. Nagito loved that dysfunctional, terrifying smile, because it was the single imperfect thing about his boyfriend, which made it perfect and Izuru was perfect and jeez Nagito was SO GAY.

“You’re mean,” he told Izuru with as much indignation as he could fake.

“Yes, my darling, I probably am.” Izuru reached down and plucked one of the tools right out of his grasp without paying the ransom.

SO mean.

(Next time Izuru was working and Nagito felt ignored, he started insulting himself on purpose, but Izuru outwitted him yet again. He always did.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a nice comment from hopeboi-ko.


	2. On Responses to Distraction

Without Nagito realising it, his baking lessons have been set to hard mode.

Smooch. “Pretty.”

Y-yeah, because just _how_ is he supposed to concentrate on cracking eggs with an affectionate demigod kissing him behind the ear?

“Izuru, th—”

Izuru kisses his neck. Nagito’s thumbs smash right through the eggshell.

“A-ah,” he gasps, and begins to pick shell shards out of the bowl.

“Sorry.” Izuru’s chin appears on Nagito’s shoulder. Breath teases his hair.

“Y-you’re distracting me on purpose!”

“You are doing very well. I’m proud of you.”

Nagito, blushing, finishes removing bits of eggshell despite the clingy boyfriend’s arms around his waist. He beats the first egg into the mixture, then reaches for the second.

“This is horribly unfair, you know,” he says. “I have to work hard to get you in the mood, and you only have to—”

He shrieks. The second egg also shatters. Izuru just nibbled his earlobe.

“Do you want this cake made or not?!”

“Mmm… do not care.”

“You’re an evil mastermind and I don’t know why I’m marrying you.”

Izuru buries his face in white fluffy hair. “Love you,” he says.

Nagito sighs. Right, that’s why.

“Go grease the baking tins, all right?” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a nice comment from luczarys.


	3. Interlude: On Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course he feels.

Limerence. Infatuation. I cannot feel these things. I will never feel the giddy, chaotic rush of newfound passion.

Does this mean I cannot love? Stupid question. Boring question.

Still, I will never be able to experience love as a fire, an addiction, or all those other violent metaphors of which real people are fond. Love is... a steadying. A direction. A thing performed because it is inherently pleasant, like a stim, and because it makes my beloved happy and that is an uncomplicated good, and his smile is not fire but it is a warm spring morning.

I am cold. My emotions are muted, but they are there.

I will never feel passion. I will never feel half the things he feels. The distance between my right-angled world and his riotous landscape of colour will never be fully closed. I can only focus on the things I can control, which are keeping him aware of my endless fondness and gratitude, giving him the happy, fulfilling life he so deserves, and ruthlessly socially destroying anyone who hurts him.

(That last was partly joking.)

The ancient Greeks had four words for types of love. This is not enough. Not nearly enough.


	4. On Walls (non-canon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kabedon't even ask.
> 
> Started out as some silly headcanons, then got sillier.

### Izuru pins Nagito to a wall:

Nagito quivers, pants, buckles at the knees, drools a little.

### Nagito pins Izuru to a wall, #1:

Izuru chuckles and launches a tickle counteroffensive. Nagito squeals, wriggles, pleads for mercy, receives none.

### Nagito pins Izuru to a wall, #2:

Izuru grabs him, one hand on the back of the neck, one on the butt, and pulls him in. Nagito happily yelps.

### Nagito pins Izuru to a wall, #3:

Izuru, eyebrow raised: “And just what were you planning on doing next?” Nagito panics, screws his eyes shut, kisses him on the lips, runs away.

### Izuru pins Nagito to a wall... literally:

“Izuruuuuuu,” Nagito whined, and stuck out his tongue at the other customers in the furniture shop. None of them was helping him. This was unfair.

“Do not wriggle or this will take longer.” Izuru’s swift fingers attached yet another safety pin through Nagito’s shirt and into the trendy fabric-padded wall.

“I _said_ I’d be good!”

“Which is what you said the last time and the time before that, and what have I just had to confiscate from you coming out of that last shop?”

Nagito pouted. “Why do you always take my guns away?”

“Because I love you and have no intention of letting you run around getting yourself hurt.” Izuru finished with the edges of Nagito’s jeans. His boyfriend was now fully pinned to the wall. “I will be back to let you down when I have finished the shopping,” he said, and stalked away with a swish of dark, silky hair and no backward glances at all.

“I’m going to consider this kinky just to spite you!” Nagito called after him.

* * *

Nagito spent the entire time imagining Izuru naked in order to get back at him.

On reflection, this was not all that successful as revenge, but it did pass the time pleasantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last section was inspired by bon3bait/dogonaroomba, who interpreted the verb 'pin' rather more literally than intended.


	5. On Portraiture

Nagito is cleaning because he loves cleaning. Izuru is helping because he loves Nagito.

The benefits of this include the sight of Izuru in rolled-up shirtsleeves, hair tied back, reaching high shelves with precise, economical flicks of the feather duster. This never fails to send Nagito’s imagination to interesting places.

In the middle of polishing some knickknacks of his parents’ that he hasn’t yet bothered to throw away or store, he pauses to enjoy the painting on the wall. It’s a portrait of Nagito with a beaming smile. In the background is a shrine gate guarded by lions, and a cherry branch.

Izuru’s imagination produces some beautiful things. Innocent things.

Nagito is grabbed from behind. He smiles and relaxes into the hug.

“Pretty,” says Izuru, with his chin on Nagito's shoulder.

“The way you see me,” begins Nagito, and then he bites back on the self-hatred and instead says “I’m so lucky.”

“Luck, hmm? I have that too,” says Izuru teasingly. But then Nagito feels his head tilt slightly to one side. “Would further paintings produce additional happiness?”

Because Nagito is by now well able to recognise the politely curious tone of voice that threatens, should he answer carelessly, to lay about eighty more paintings at his feet and then wander off to produce another batch, he says “Diminishing returns, love.”

(It initially took some time to put this concept across to Izuru, who, if he likes something, will still like it tomorrow and next week and next decade—and, Nagito fervently hopes, for the rest of their lives.)

“Humans are frustratingly seldom linear,” says Izuru.

“Mmhmm. Our little brains are just too fragile to be consistent.” Nagito’s stopped even questioning why Izuru refers to ‘humans’ as a separate species. It’s just his sense of humour.

“Big brain,” Izuru insists, “if often full of fluff.” He kisses Nagito behind the ear.

Nagito giggles. “Can I finish cleaning these now?”

“Don’t know. Can you?”

It turns out he can, though the process is slowed somewhat by the dark and deadly demigod who refuses to stop cuddling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a nice comment from underthemilkytwilight.


	6. Interlude: On Fluffies

The animal on my lap is a domestic shorthair, mackerel tabby, around six years two months old, with unremarkable markings except for a white spot on the top lip, signs of arthritis in the hind legs, normal kidney function, having had flea treatment within the last fortnight, probable lactose intol—

I touch his fur. _Soft. Fluffy._ Thoughts slow down to a comfortable trickle. The cat moves against my hand. He wishes simultaneous chin rubs and scruff massage. I oblige. His purrs become louder and take on a mixture of higher frequencies, something akin to a starter motor. Dandelion tends to refer to this as “overdrive purr”.

The cat slyly parts his hind legs, offering the tummy. I cup one hand under his head and neck and, with the other, commence tummy tickles. He shifts his shoulders. His purrs become ecstatic. His front paws knead the air.

I hear Dandelion's phone camera. I pay it no mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Mousington, you were a wonderful cat. This silly tribute is for you, and for Piper, from whom I borrowed the purr.


	7. On Poetic Ventures

### Fever

The brow is pale and oily, sopping wet;  
The body quakes and shivers, burning hot;  
With limbs too weak to wipe away the sweat,  
Surroundings smeared by eyes that focus not;  
The sheets are rucked and soaked beneath my back,  
The window wide and yet I gasp for breath;  
And then delirium’s phantom friends attack;  
The roar of thunder—or a jet plane’s death?  
Yet as I lie despairing of an end,  
A shadow moves across my darkened scope!  
His strong and gentle fingers coax and tend  
And fever flees the cooling touch of Hope.  
Sweet physic took the foul and made it pure;  
My love was not the fever, but its cure.

—Nagito

  


### Untitled

Ringlet bleat baby  
watches the butterfly  
from my lap

—Izuru

  


### Snowdrop shoots

A white pillow  
for the world’s sleeping  
green eyes peep through

—Izuru

  


### Awakening

The window fogs  
I breathe in despair  
and breathe out spring

—Izuru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sonnet was written in response to a nice comment from bloodandblackrose.
> 
> The lamb haiku was written in response to a nice comment from klavart/nothlits.
> 
> I know haikus are not really meant to be metaphorical, but Izuru was in a fey mood when I wrote the other two and insisted on sneaking a reference to his boyfriend into one of them.


	8. Interlude: Cursed Posts (very much non-canon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly posts about the boys being memes. Skippable.

### On Late-Night Blogging

 **hopeslut:** when you subby af but bae thinks ssc stands for sweet snuggles and cuddles

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** ?

* * *

**hopeslut:** WHEN BAE SEES YOUR BLOG POST CALLING HIM OUT FOR BEING SWEET AND INNOCENT

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** I do know what BDSM is, darling.

* * *

**hopeslut:** WHEN YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW BAE FOLLOWED YOUR BLOG

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** Should I not?

* * *

**hopeslut:** NO IT’S FINE

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** All right. Then, if you want any chance of being able to walk in the morning, I suggest you come to bed right now.

* * *

**hopeslut:** ?!!!!!!!!!!!!!

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** If you get up too late we won’t have time for the park before your morning classes.

* * *

**hopeslut:** WAS THAT DELIBERATE

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** Was what?

* * *

**hopeslut:** NO IZURU OH MY GOD I NEED YOU TO TELL ME IF THAT WAS DELIBERATE

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** Yes.

* * *

**hopeslut:** YES IT WAS DELIBERATE??

* * *

**memeticallyengineered:** Yes I’ll tell you whether or not it was deliberate when you come to bed.

* * *

**hopeslut:** SKLDFJASDKLFJASDFsakdjflkj i’m on my way

* * *

(Later:

“What is ‘bae’?”

“I often ask myself the same thing, Izuru.”)

 

### On replicating classic Vines

` **Izuru:** *crushes Nagito's empty soda can between two fingers*`  
`**Izuru:** *throws it the length of a playing field into the nearest recycling bin*`  
`**Nagito, starry-eyed:** Oh, wait, babe! Could you do that again, but this time shout “yeet” as you throw?`  
`**Izuru:** ...`  
`**Izuru:** Produce another empty can, then.`  
`**Nagito, already chugging another of his 500 sodas:** On it.`

* * *

The noise was felt first in the bones of the feet, as the earth shook, before that thunderous shout impacted the ears like a fire engine at full speed. Birds took off in a ragged spiral. A small child started wailing. A larger child took advantage of the aftermath to pick a pocket or five, tie together several shoelaces and run away with a soft _neeheehee_.

“That,” sighed Nagito, stopping recording, “was beautiful.”

“I overdid it, didn’t I,” said Izuru.

“No! You did perfectly! As expected of the Ultimat—”

“That window over there is broken.”

“Haha... my fault for saying ‘shout’. I keep forgetting how precise I have to be with you.”

“...I think I have been playing too much Skyrim with Chiaki.”

 

### On... look, I have no idea why this one blew up, but last time I checked it was going on for 200 notes

` **Nagito:** It’s only natural and extremely obvious that strong hope devours weak hope.`  
`**Izuru, troubled:** Does… does this mean you wish me to vore Makoto?`  
`**Nagito:** WHO TOLD YOU WHAT VORE IS?`

 

### 02:13, day 4

_[Ext. Hope’s Peak Academy, central courtyard, night. Two hopelessly gay boys splash at each other from opposite sides of a fountain.]_

**Izuru:** So many things to tell him,  
But where can I begin  
To show him all the vast, impossible  
Worlds I hold within?

 **Nagito:** He's holding back; he’s cautious.  
Of what? I can't define.  
Why won’t he be the hope I see in him?  
Why won’t he let it shine?

[ **CAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT** etc]

 **Mukuro:** And if he falls in love tonight?  
It can be assumed  
No dark despair will sink its claws in him.  
In short, our plan is doomed.

_[FX: Junko crying in the distance]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This be the Vine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Bjy5YQ5xPc) that Nagito is referencing.
> 
> The last one is [referencing The Lion King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25QyCxVkXwQ). Izuru likes big cats.


	9. On Maintenance of Silly Boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor mentions of parasites. None of them in the food, luckily.

Nagito Dandelion Komaeda has dedicated his life to serving Hope. Most of the time that means snuggling with Hope, easing Hope’s communication with others, and running interference when stressful things threaten to overwhelm him. Today it means making sure Hope, hyper-organised supergenius that he is, remembers that food exists.

He checks his work carefully. Rice fluffy and not soggy. Omelette fluffy, cooked all the way through, not burned. Vegetables crisp. (Hope is vegetarian. Of course he is. His compassion extends all the way down the food chain, even to a writhing macroparasite such as Nagito.)

Nagito, since graduating, has thrown himself into housekeeping and loves it. He was already good at cleaning, though living alongside an Ultimate Housekeeper/Maid/Butler/Handyman has taught him a lot of new tricks. He has been working hard at learning to cook, despite an utter lack of grace, coordination and natural talent, because of situations like this.

He looks it over once more. Hardly food fit for a god. But it’s the best Nagito can do, so with great effort, as he’s been taught, he forgives himself. He puts the dishes on the tray with the water jug and heads up to Izuru’s study.

A couple of days ago, Izuru announced that he felt “like curing some more diseases” and, marshalling his masterful knowledge of the human body that somehow still neglects to factor in his own one’s need for sleep and meals, propelled himself into doing exactly that. Nagito, with vengeful, slavering pride, has been looking forward to seeing which illness is next on the chopping block. Despair doesn't stand a chance against his god.

He bumps the study door open with his hip—at some point Izuru did something to the latch to make it easier to do this, because at least he’s _aware_ of what he’s like when he’s in work mode—sets the tray on a side table and goes to offer himself for grabbing. Izuru’s the only person Nagito’s ever met who can match him for clinginess. Sure enough, as soon as he leans on Izuru and rests an arm on his shoulder, an answering arm appears around Nagito’s waist. The missing piece of him slots into place. His soul dips into calm skies.

“Is that a mosquito?” Nagito asks, referring to what's on one of the computer screens.

“Since they spread it, I thought it only fair that they distribute the cure,” says Izuru. He then backtracks a little—Izuru tends to skip intervening steps of thought, on the adorably optimistic assumption that any listener can keep up with him—and says “Malaria, that is. Yes, it’s a mosquito.”

“Still stealing despair’s instruments and turning them to hope, hmm?” Nagito smooches the top of the silky, brainy head. "Have I mentioned I love you?”

“Grwawr,” says Izuru, and stands up and kisses him. Nagito remains on his legs, barely, despite being unable to feel them because they’ve turned into goo. _Grwawr_ may mean _I love you_ in Siberian tiger—you soon learn to roll with Izuru’s vocalisations, unless you’re Gundham, who returns them in kind—but to Nagito it means _I’m safe and I’m **his** and nothing can get me, not even my own luck_. (To Nagito’s libido it means other things, too, but he tries to rein that in for now. He’s already enough of a drooly mess around his god.)

“Thank you for being patient while I battle dragons,” says Izuru, nuzzling his hair.

“Thank _you_ for saving their other hostages like you saved me,” says Nagito, caressing his chest. Mmmm, muscles. Steady, don't salivate.

“Well, I’m a completionist,” says Izuru, and scoots his chair under the desk with a foot before moving over to the bean chairs. Nagito hands him the less haphazardly-arranged dish.

Izuru tastes it and says “Your skill keeps on improving.”

“Well, nothing burned this time,” Nagito hedges.

“Just wait until I teach you how to flambé,” says Izuru.

Nagito lets slip a moth-flutter of a giggle and holds back a corny line about _I only burn for you, babe_.

To his shame, he has to pick out several pieces of eggshell from his food. No matter how carefully he watches Izuru, he never manages to catch him doing the same. Is it possible for a god to be too kind?

Nagito thinks about that as he washes the dishes, then returns upstairs, drapes himself beguilingly over a beanbag, and watches his Hope continue to save the world, one bug at a time.

He feels so lucky to have been the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a nice comment from daydreamingtomatos.


	10. On Astrollogy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [#IFD2019](https://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/12218) drabble. Theme: characters discovering new fandoms. I'm not sorry. This is canon.

I come home from the physiotherapist to find apocalypse.

“ **Infinity unlimited flame!** ”

No, not that. They say that all the time.

“Nitram is formidable, but the Mage of Doom has my allegiance.”

“...really? Not Erida—”

“ **Utter n** **ot that name!** ”

“...very well. I like Sollux, also. Fuzzy bees.”

With resigned dread, I hang up my coat. In the library, Izuru and Gundham occupy the game table. A dozen hamsters crowd around a tablet, catching virtual sunflower seeds.

“Dandy.” Izuru’s expression suggests the anticipated joy in sharing a new toy.

Grin and bear it. “Yes, love?”

“Have you heard of Homestuck?”


	11. On More Poetry

### At rest, my darling lets his worries slide

At rest, my darling lets his worries slide  
From off the bed I make at dawn of day;  
The surface smooths, the wrinkles chased aside.

And, banished to wherever worries hide,  
They sulk around the borders, kept at bay.  
At rest, my darling lets his worries slide.

His days are filled with friendships, trips outside,  
With rice to stir, with shirts to put away;  
The surface smooths, the wrinkles chased aside.

And if it seems he's never satisfied—  
His own imagined faults impede his way—  
At rest, my darling lets his worries slide.

Whenever he complains, or I must chide,  
We're sure to reconcile by close of play;  
The surface smooths, the wrinkles chased aside.

Slack-lipped. Lead-limbed. Warmth-seeking. Drowsy-eyed.  
He settles in my arms. He knows I'll stay.  
At rest, my darling lets his worries slide.  
The surface smooths, the wrinkles chased aside.

—Izuru

  


### Untitled

Roses are pink.  
So are his cheeks  
Whenever I kiss them.  
We're both sappy geeks.

—Anonymous (but obviously Izuru)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The villanelle ("At rest, my darling...") was written in response to a nice comment from carrotsncream.


	12. On Enjoying an Open Relationship with Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout-outs to [this classic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/819986) for inspiring the very hopeful tale in the first part. Although we have no idea who wrote _this_ story. It is a Mystery.
> 
> Suggestive language here and there, a swear or two (Fuyuhiko), and sections written in script format because they started as blog posts.

### Wings Of Desire!

One moonlit night, a beautiful dark angel descended from the heavens and landed gracefully in a meadow by the shore of a lake. The strong muscles of his back and chest gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion of beating his dark wings of desirous midnight.

But what he didn’t realise was that a worthless, trashy human was also there! The human had, by sheer luck, chosen to camp in this field for the night, but his tent had been destroyed by the broken branch of a tree crashing down on it just as he had stepped out to refill my water bottle. So, the vile and unworthy human was there when the breathtaking celestial being appeared! He wanted to die on the spot for daring to look upon something so perfect.

The angel approached him, studied him with dark, endless eyes that caught the moonlight with a gleam of blood red, and said “Mortal, do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” said the living heap of refuse, “for being rightly struck down by one such as you for my audacity in setting my eyes upon you would be my dream come true.”

The magnificently hope-inducing angel said “My name is Exile Godvessel.”

“A fitting name for such awe-inspiring beauty,” I murmured.

The angel said “I have need of a mortal to serve my desires.”

The lowly slime of a human nodded and said “I will assist you in finding one worthy of this honour.”

“You misunderstand,” said the transcendental vision of loveliness. “I have already chosen. It will be you.”

The human gasped in surprise!! “But I could never deserve the favour of such a perfect being!” he protested.

“No, but then no mortal can,” said the sexy and also perfect beautiful angel called Exile Godvessel who was also very clean and smelled of citrus and sandalwood and clouds and maleness. “Will you submit to my ownership, lowly human?”

“Yes!!!!” I moaned and threw myself at his feet, which were clean and perfectly manicured. Then he pulled me upright with his strong arms that could have tossed me around like a rag doll and his broad, manly hands that could have fit perfectly around my neck! and he dominantly and sexily commanded mE TO TAKE OFF MY

_[Document ends here, as though the writer had hastily closed down the computer for some reason]_

  


### Superior logic

 **Fuyuhiko:** Okay. O... okay. Let’s. Let’s take it from the top.

 **Izuru:** Dandelion always says he likes to do that.

 **Fuyuhiko:** Huh? What’s that got to do with… look, never mind that. LISTEN.

 **Izuru:** Yes?

 **Fuyuhiko:** You know Nagito has flaws, right?

 **Izuru:** Yes.

 **Fuyuhiko:** Like he makes mistakes at times, and there are things... ugh, be polite, be polite... things about himself that he could improve, yeah?

 **Izuru:** Yes.

 **Fuyuhiko:** So—and this is the important part, see—in fact Nagito is NOT perfect.

 **Izuru:** False. He is perfect in all ways. Completely and utterly without flaw or error of any kind.

 **Fuyuhiko:** Wh... but y... you JUST agr... for fuck’s sake, Izuru, what kinda logic is that?!

 **Izuru:** Superior logic.

 **Izuru:** Do not worry. I understand that limited minds have trouble comprehending it.

  


### An eccentric definition of revenge

“I just want you to know that I’m considering this kinky,” said Nagito.

“I see,“ said Izuru, continuing.

"This’ll teach you. I’m enjoying this and it’s going to serve you right.”

“It was not meant to be unpleasant in the first place,” said Izuru.

“I’m subverting your despairful machinations even as we speak by thinking of this as for my own benefit…”

“Darling, this is physiotherapy. It was for your own benefit to begin with.”

“…so that’s why your evillicious temptful wiles won’t… ahhhh… work on me.”

“Sorry. I have to press this hard.”

“H-harderrr…”

“No. This hard.”

“But Izuruuuu.”

“…I will massage you recreationally later if you wish.”

“Hehe, yay!”

“You are spoiled.”

“♫ Yo-our fa-ault. ♫”

  


### A ship that launched a thousand facepalms

 **Mahiru:** Okay, this one for the win! Greek mythology, The Iliad. Who was the greatest beauty in the world?

 **Izuru:** Dandelion.

 **Mahiru:** ...no.

 **Izuru:** Yes.

 **Mahiru:** Izuru you _can’t_ just keep answering Nagito to this question. I know for a fact Fuyuhiko’s practising his trick shuffle and he’ll just deal you this card every time.

 **Izuru:** The small piece of cardboard is incorrect and has poor taste. The correct answer is Dandelion.

 **Mahiru:** ...agh.

 **Mikan:** Okay, I think I... oh, sorry... I think I have a solution... [scribble scribble]

 **Mahiru:** Mikan, you’re amazing.

 **Mikan:** A-aah!

 **Mahiru:** Right then. EXCEPT FOR NAGITO DANDELION KOMAEDA, who was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The physiotherapy skit started off as a reply to a nice comment from GlitchyPix.


	13. Interlude: On Petting Zoos

Somebody, possibly somebody whose brain works like mine, once looked at this thirteenth-floor office space and decided "this place needs more animals".

My fourteen friends (two hominid, twelve cricetine) readily accepted my suggestion of a visit to this indoor farm. Dandelion refers to us as Red-Eyed Fluff Lovers' Club, even though not all the Twelve Zodiac Generals have red eyes and their daddy only qualifies 50%.

So far, Bamboo and Purveyor of Fluffies have taken a lesson in making ice cream, the Generals have gone swimming in a water trough, and I have spent half an hour with my hands and face in the coat of an alpaca, who leaned back against me even more heavily and with considerably more happy groans.

Now Purveyor of Fluffies is feeding a flamingo with me. Lowly, I say "Kazuichi". He booms a laugh.

Bamboo is taking her turn with the alpaca, who, after some initial predator-caution squeaks, warmed up to her upon smelling the goat feed in her pockets. She looks blissfully contented.

(I send a photograph to Pinstripe, who responds "cool" but probably in real life made the _d'awww_ sound he denies making because it is "dopey".)

Bamboo moves on to scratch a pig behind the ear, and Purveyor of Fluffies sweeps a low bow to the alpaca. "Queen of the night!" he declares.

"Ehhh," says the alpaca.

"Voice of angels!"

The alpaca wanders into her toilet corner, defecates and returns for more petting.

"Such a divine sight! An Amazon!" declaims Purveyor of Fluffies, enraptured.

"So clever and fluffy-wuffy," I agree.

"Queen. Absolute queen," says Bamboo, eyes moist.

"Ehhh!" says the alpaca, who has now acquired twelve tiny passengers, all waving their paws and trying to make her give them a ride.

I am mentally composing glowing reviews for this place. I wonder where we should go next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some nice comments from Aviyah reminded me that I needed to make Red-Eyed Fluff Lovers' Club official. Now it is super ultra canon for Cuddlyverse and we're all better off for it, so thanks for that!
> 
> [Alpacas sound like squeaky toys.](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=alpaca+vocalisations) I couldn't have made it up. And there [really is an indoor office farm in Tokyo](https://whereintokyo.com/venues/25691.html). This might be that one, or it might be a new venue opened by [Daisaku Bandai](https://danganronpa.fandom.com/wiki/Daisaku_Bandai).


End file.
